


wine of the father

by macha



Series: Georgia on My Mind [29]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-17
Updated: 2007-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:52:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macha/pseuds/macha





	wine of the father

  
_  


### C06.01.02 StealthWars:  
in the heart, we are fire.

  
_

and the name of the tale is:

wine of the father

Why on lost earth didn't you wait for me?

I heard you on your way. Wouldn't have been right, to put it on you to take her out.

What do you need?

Tara, thank god. Tell Andrew code red. Lock the doors, warm up the engines. Send the ViMedic. And right frigging now, start a lab check on whatever was in that cup. Then some warm blankets; he's got the shivers, and I don't want to move him till we know where we're at. I think the blood belongs to both of them. But cleanup can wait.

Not mine, the blood.

Wrongo. I spotted a few crucial holes. You didn't notice?

I'm right as rain, just give me a mo.

Spike, you can't go to sleep until we know what was in the cup. And your system is in shock. Stay with me.

It was Mountain Dew. I knew it would be.

He isn't going to stop sending, is he? How many assassins is this?

Maybe 13? A short attention span was never one of his problems.

 _Code red, Andrew speaking. This is an emergency, not a drill. Security breach, category 1. Main doors now locking down; countdown to launch has started. All outside parties, call home now, and return to ship. We may have hostiles aboard; cue search and seizure. Doors to the hold now sealed; we'll flush the empty bays out systematically in vacuum flight. Step lively; we'll be jumping in twenty._

I can't believe he got in this far today. Spike, this time he breached the ship.

Hoy, give me some credit, knew it wasn't you all along, didn't I?

Did you? How? I can't see any difference between her and me, except that i'm over here, and she's over there, and also over there. So, plainly, she's not quite the same. At least, not any more.

Good genes, those Summers girls. Guess somebody studied up. She didn't smell like you, though. And I smelled him in the workings somewhere.

How much did you drink?

The whole thing.

Spike, why? You promised me. So not impressed with grand gestures flipping off the galaxy. You promised me. I just want you to be here tomorrow.

Needed the time, luv, for my bit of misdirection. Call it a calculated risk.

Calculated in what universe? I think you added all of it up wrong.

Let it be. It worked. And i'm still here.

Here's the Vi. What was in the cup?

Mountain Dew vatted in Sirius system. Good vintage. Cut with some holy water. And enough tranquillizer to immobilize several elephants. Reckon the agony was meant to last a good long time.

Except no agony in sight. Spike couldn't be going for stoic at this late date, could he? He's pretty much a howler.

I think that Holy Water must have been past its expiration date. Nothing corrosive on the tongue, or down his throat.

I killed someone that way once; it wasn't pretty. Oh hell, now he's just got another reason to hate that Spike's always the exception to any rule.

But that's the meaning of unique, Buffy.

Yeah, it is. Not like I don't know that too. I'm just, I wish, oh never mind. Let's go with less physics, more mopping, okay?

First off, these gaping holes need some attention. Let me get at them. Lean back a bit, please, to change the angle. Take a deep breath now. Relax. Can you let go?

You got him?

Yes I do.

Okay. Spike, pay attention. You got that telltale burning sensation inside?

Feeling A-1, Slayer. Just tip top.

I notice you aren't moving, though. Okay, exhibit A, holy water. So why aren't you burning?

Dunno, luv. Did that before? Or my charmed life, maybe?

Every one of those charmed lives are mine, you hear me? You're part of my stuff. But even a cat only gets nine. So you need to take better care of my stuff. And the Vi agrees; I can tell by the size of that needle.

Ow. It's all of it yours, luv, even the poetry.

The Vi brought a gurney.

Not going there. I got a reputation to maintain. Hope she prescribed a long ocean voyage.

Andrew's got that covered; it's on the way. At least in space you can't drown on me, so that's a mercy.

 _It's Andrew. Jumping in fifteen. Code still red, maybe redder. There is only one really real Buffy at the moment, and she's in the Great Hall and she's not moving till she heads for Flight. We'll figure out how to identify her later. If you spot any other Buffies, take them out with extreme prejudice. Um, but don't forget the lab prefers its cadavers in excellent condition, and Willow's easily the scariest person on board._

Why did you need the misdirection?

You came too soon. And it's harder than I thought it would be, to look into your eyes and kill you. I knew it wasn't really you, but it didn't seem to help with that. Most likely the old man knew it too, and that's why he sent her.

We're gambling lives on him, not only ours, and this is what he sends us.

You think we should stop?

I don't know. I take up with you and suddenly i'm making wagers that won't pay out, if ever, for at least sixty thousand years. And counting. How much sense does that make?

You wanted the worlds to make sense? Pity, that.

Immortals, sheesh. Just going from the kittens, I'd say you're pretty much a washout as a gambling man. And the universe doesn't come with cheat sheets, though you always seem surprised.

It's still your call, Slayer. Say and I'll follow.

You know I'm still gonna leave that bet on the table till the next round. But I must be nuts. What do I smell like then?

Joyce, and Dawn. Hyacinths. Spring water.

There's my elephant. You may be the only elephant, in fact. Why didn't he know that you would know that she wasn't me?

Becoming more dragon, maybe?

But he's not really. Is he?

Well. If we knew that, luv, we'd be betting a sure thing, wouldn't we? No joy in that.

No kittens, either. Why was it mountain dew instead of bloodwine, William?

A private joke between us. Send him a case of it, and call it done. I'm getting sleepy.

Go with it.

A rest cure, just the ticket. Right here is fine.

I still got your back.

I noticed. So warm. Don't move.

Have to move soonish, but take your 40 while you can.

Ship.com, bridge. Andrew?

Is he gonna be okay?

Just fell asleep on me, right where he dropped. Yeah, the Vi came by to do her thing. And he's healing already. I'm keeping him warm, because he likes that. Okay, I like it too.

I get that. Even if he's not breathing, you know he's still alive.

Bingo. I have to head for Flight soon, but i'll take him with. Clear the way for me? Everyone else accounted for?

Faith wasn't up yet. Illyria was in the atrium gardening. Dana was filling in for Tara at the nursery. Dawn went downworld this morning, interpreting for Darla, who had that thing, and Connor went along as bodyguard, and probably spy. But they responded and we're expecting them to make the flight. No sign the indigenes are implicated.

Pretty sure it's the usual suspect. But circuit the wagonry. We're gonna need to make some changes.

No kidding. First on my list, I want to know how she managed to waltz in right through security. Retinal scans are way too oldTech to cover this.

If the Powers can breach the ship so easily, we're all in serious trouble. Are you thinking she might be a clone? An android? A stray descendant? Some altworld me? Or what?

We won't know enough to even speculate until we get the prelim lab report. Did you know Dru made them blindfold the head before they bagged it for autopsy? That one's intriguing. I have to go. Back later.

 _Andrew. Code red, battle ready. All stragglers, pick up the pace, please; the count is down to ten. One shoreparty not in yet, but still expected. No more hostiles flushed. News at eleven._

Your escort party, at your service, ma'am. Or wait, maybe we better test you first. Is it really you, B, or should we pinch you?

Oh yes, we'd like that.

Notice the neon sign that says: Beware of the Buffy. Notice it's flashing? You're both way too eager. Far as I can tell, I'm still in one piece, which is more than I can say for the opposition.

How's he doing?

He'll live. Unlive. Whatever.

Yup, he's looking good, for a dead man, even upside down. Looking damn pleased, in fact; what's that about?

The Hanged Man, hanging by his thread.

How about you?

Bit of a freakout, but he'll recover from that too.

I have to tell you blood is not your color. You gave Tara quite a start.

I had to use my fist to plug one of Spike's holes, till the Vi came round. And, sadly, I won't have time to shower now till we're on the other side.

It's okay to let go now.

He's not so heavy.

Sure, but far as we know, you're at least the secondary target. And unless you want to use him as your shield - I'm thinking not - you're maybe a bit hampered if trouble finds you. Andrew, we're on the way.

 _This is Andrew. Faith and Dru are now escorting the really real Buffy and Spike from the main Hall into Flight. Don't shoot up the parade. No bounty on that wild bunch. Eight minutes now to jump._

What was the damage?

She's very dead. Wanna do a chorus of "Bits and Pieces"? Haven't heard back on the autopsy yet. Spike's sporting a few holes, and a dose of trank that's big enough that he actually seemed kinda tranquil, and who knew that was possible?

Sorry I missed it; I got to start getting up earlier in the morning.

I didn't get there till after; he wouldn't wait.

Really B, it's not like you don't know he's like that.

I know, I know. Even the Vi has delivered the Nature of Spike lecture this morning.

All hail the Vi. Listen, i'm taking point. Nobody's recalled that code red.

We can't; we don't know how she got in, so we don't know if she came in alone. And she was me, Faith; I couldn't tell the difference.

But Spike and I both can; that's why I came.

Thank you, Drusilla. The part I don't understand is why the holy water didn't work, but that's what seems to have saved him.

Oh, but I know the answer. That's why I made the monster drown him, long ago. We were down in the Hellmouth. The army of The Turok's Hand was walking. I asked him to choose. Gurnenthar's Day, it was. Not today. Or maybe it wasn't.

He doesn't breathe, Dru. How could he ever drown? And you weren't there. Were you?

I'm always there. It's always then. And now. But Evil's Dru was an reversal, so she came out a good girl really.

But... Dru, you're making my head all hurty. However do you manage? So you were there, then?

There now. He still smelled of you.

What did you do?

He couldn't bear to live below any more. I felt his pain. I remember making him, you know. Only I didn't. Or maybe once or twice. Unless that hasn't happened yet.

It's worrisome that i'm beginning to understand you. So you did what exactly?

She wasn't bad, so I thought maybe it would be alright if she did the christening.

Huh?

He made a lovely knight, he did. But I didn't mean for him to be unhappy. So we washed him clean again, after the crucifixion.

You mean you baptised him again, in the water?

Held him under the water. Just like a baby. I always liked that, but he didn't. He was mine to raise, you know.

You blessed him? That's why the holy water didn't burn?

Unmade him, like, it did. Or anyway, I thought it might. It was worth a try.

He claimed himself.

So clean, he was, inside. Like the first time. And then I sent him back to live. He couldn't stay there, after. It wouldn't have been right.

You sent him back. To live.

Somebody had to look after him, poor boy, without his family. It wasn't right that he should be all alone.

You sent him back, _to me?_ On purpose?

He said you'd come. You took your time, though, getting there. I still haven't any.

Sometimes I think you really are an angel, OldSkool style. Something shiny born out of all that dark matter I wasn't built to see.

Angels are dangerous. But at least their swords are kind. Not always true of Slayers, that.

I'm running out of weapons. But you're right. He came so far. And you came, I can't even imagine, how far. So much farther than me. I wonder, sometimes, what honor means, really. I was just meant to be the Slayer, you know? It was supposed to be simple.

Nothing is ever simple, Buffy. In honor or in love.

I figured that much out. I never thought... there would be time.

 _Andrew here. Jumping in five. All parties not engaged in Launch or in Reconnaissance should be in Flight by now. Our stragglers are on the gangplank._

Buffy, she was - oh, sorry. You were having a moment?

It's okay, Willow. Dru and I - Short version, Vulcan mind-meld thing: how scary is that? Don't answer, cause I'm so not ready to go there. Ack, never mind. What did you learn?

Prelim only, so far. We'll keep a labshift up right after jump to work on it right through the ceremony, research the biology. According to our instruments, that body's human. Not even replicated. Only a bit of reconstructive work, around the eyes.

But?

Dru insists it's a different species all the same.

Huh. Dru, I had no idea you were out and about so much these days.

She takes a keen interest in the mechanics of all Spike's various assassinations.

Daddy is being very busy, mischief making. He does enjoy it.

Wish I could say the same.

But thirteen's lucky. It's just not lucky for the king of cups.

Here's hoping not. And if it's a new species, where does that leave us?

New to us, anyway. Although there's some literature that is suggestive.... If Dru is right like usual, we'll need some snakebite remedies for the serpent locks. And ultimately some kind of test to separate them out from the human population.

Right. Scary thing when the scanners can't tell the diff.

Bingo. But now we have actual data: since he was kind enough to send us a whole sampler.

How gracious of him. So does that mean the model that put the sass, or maybe the ass, into assassin is just a shapeshifter ringer with my template handy to switch into, then?

Maybe. Or maybe somebody's married or crossbred the DNA between the two species. In which case, that there's a relative.

Hey, I was happy angsting on that other less scary thought. It's also troubling that anything, let alone a construct, was able to track us here.

No kidding. Suggests so much more intel is coming off our footprint than we thought we were leaving. Or somebody all too close is merrily selling off our futures.

Also, what if she's not the only one who got inside?

Too soon to tell for sure, I guess. But hey, no worries. If the atrium goes all petrified forest, or we all turn into statuary, then we'll know. On second thought, that's maybe not so funny this morning.

There just better be some kind of difference we can calibrate and scan for.

Yep. And meanwhile, we're up the creek without the proverbial paddle.

SNAFU condition, kind of our natural state at rest. What should I do now, just so everybody can tell it's really the me of me?

I haven't a clue. How did Spike know? Guess he's our designated litmus test for awhile.

He says he smelled the difference.

O yes. We can always tell where the Slayer is, and what she's made of. It's because of the hunt. When we hunt the hunter. Gives us a trail to follow.

What kind of range?

Right across continents, sometimes.

You're kidding me. And nobody ever mentioned this to me before?

Seems downright careless, doesn't it?

Wish we could bottle that scent memory.

And what does this Slayer smell like? I'm taking a little poll.

She smells like starlight.

So, Buffy, get any usable data there?

Too early to tell, she says with dignity.

At any rate, when Spike wakes up, I guess you two are destined to be joined at the hip till we get a grip.

That might be fun.

Hold the details. I'm glad you didn't have to kill her, though. Doppelgangers, I'm here to tell you that would have been a bitch to have to live with.

Spike thought so too.

He was playing the Archangel Michael, wasn't he? He's such a stern one.

How did he do it? Did you see? We always run the cameras in the Main Hall, but we haven't had time to snag the tape yet.

I saw.

But you weren't there. Oh, right, been there, done that. So, spill.

He drank it off, and he threw the cup, and turned around. Like on a stage, it was, dramatic. He looked in the mirror, and didn't see himself, but only her behind him.

So he still doesn't show up in mirrors? I never think to notice any more. Oh, sorry. And then?

It was in her eyes. I could read it. The truth she came to share.

Death, you mean?

Or is that who she was already? He didn't turn to stone; I don't think he can.

I'm with you there. So it was only in the mirror he looked her in the eye?

How darned traditional he's been this morning. Well, but then William did start out as a classicist.

Our boy drew the sword, and whirled, all in one motion. She only got the chance to stick him with it as he came around.

She caught him hard; he should have died.

He was in play; it didn't even slow him down. He took her head, and threw that after the cup. Duncan MacLeod on the telly couldn't have done it up better. And then he fell. But he'd been careful, in his fashion. Give him his due.

I guess. I wish he was less fashionable, sometimes.

Did I save him, then?

I think you did, at that.

We're gonna have to redo all the wardings.

The real fun always starts when he gets tired of play.

The whole thing gives me the willies. And now I've got dead goldfish on the brain.

Okay, how about we send back a whole shipful of the stuff, with our compliments. We'll use the freighter for the job. It's been compromised; we think it might have been IDed in that last engagement. I'm sorry, Dru; I know you loved being the Captain.

Everything dies, our Buffy. We all die. Even you. But sometimes that's only the next beginning.

We'll build you a new ship in return, how's that? After all, Darla's still got hers. Two ships were part of our original bargain. What would you like?

Can I have a China Clipper?

Yes you can. Whatever it is. Will you teach us all how to sail?

I will, ye hearties. What fun. But don't be sad; for the freighter it's a lovely ending. We'll ship it all back to Daddy, kits and kaboodles, wine of the mother, and leave it for him to tow as salvage.

Maybe we should rechristen it The Flying Irishman for the occasion.

I know! We'll tie her head to the masthead. Don't worry, it won't hurt him a bit, because he's already turned to stone. Avast, ye swabs, let's raise the skull and crossbones.

Avast indeed, set to, and we'll throw you a party after, our doughty Jenny.

Hey, you can even walk the plank if the spirit moves you.

The spirits are always moving me.

Move them right back, that's my advice.

Maybe I will. Such a nice present. What dragon could resist a pirate's treasure?

One thing, though. I'm not sure I'm ready to part with that head till it's given up everything it's got.

I'll tell you a secret, Willow. Shh! You're going to get others.

Stop fighting over who gets my heads, guys. It's deeply disturbing.

 _It's Andrew. One minute to launch, everyone present and accounted for; no extra bodies yet. Time to strap in. Flight pattern scrambled. ETA sixteen hours the other side of a six jump spread._

That Andrew, what a showoff. The Enterprise Captains will be turning in their graves.

More likely they're green with envy.

 **Now** you wake up, after we've done all the heavy lifting.

Just let them turn, secretly geekboy. Not like you haven't turned yourself.

And Andrew deserves every bit of fun he has with doing bridgework too.

I'll research the Sirius logo, then, so we do it up just right. What should we add to our batch of dew brew? It will give me something useful to think about on the way.

Bit of spring water, Red, let's see how that goes down.


End file.
